


Misunderstanding

by A_Starry_Night



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:44:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6437776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Starry_Night/pseuds/A_Starry_Night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't understand Jessica Jones, and that's what kills you in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misunderstanding

**Author's Note:**

> I will start off by saying that this is not a Jessica/Kilgrave fic whatsoever. I will not ship them. Their dynamic shown in the series is fascinating but I can't write it as a romance. It's also not an apologist fic for Kilgrave's actions or his character because although there were moments when I pitied or even sympathized with him, he's still one of the most despicable people out there. But I wanted to explore some moments in the series that interested me so here we are.

Jessica Jones is afraid of murder. You realize this gradually but even when that moment of realization comes you cannot comprehend it. This Jessica Jones is loud and sarcastic and bitter, her large eyes too dark for your liking, her shapely lips drawn down into a scowl that you know will cause wrinkles when she grows older, and her words are too large and abrasive for her deceptively willowy frame. This Jessica wears anger like a cloak, but you are not blind. You see the veiled fear in her eyes that translates into fury and a sharp tongue when she’s in your presence.

It’s when you force Chuck to place the end of his shotgun in his own mouth that she jumps to stop you and it’s then that you see it, the fear that drives her. Her eyes widen and shine and you realize where you’ve seen an echo of that face before: after she killed Reva.

You ask her about it in a rare quiet moment where her anger and bitterness has tempered into hazy exhaustion. She watches you warily when you move closer but per her request you refrain from touching her. You can’t control her now but she still doesn’t know that.

You’ll be careful to keep it that way.

“What are you really afraid of when you watch me, Jessica?”

She blinks up at you with an irritable frown. “Why would I want to _watch_ you, asshole?” she snaps and you have to bite your tongue to keep from ordering her to hurt herself for the blatant language she’s using. “I spend most of my time trying to forget you exist.” She lifts the bottle of half-drunk wine to her mouth but it pauses when you speak again.

“You stopped me from killing that man. You blame me for killing Reva. So why are you so concerned about other people’s lives?”

_Why are you so afraid of what you'll do under my control?_

Jessica recognizes the unspoken question you’re really trying to ask. You expect her to react with anger, as is her usual wont now, but she surprises you: she snorts silently and takes a long drink. When she comes back up for air she’s ready with her answer.

“I’ve already told you I don’t want any more deaths on my conscience.”

She’s afraid you’ll command her to kill someone. You’ve suspected that’s what it was and you can only look at her, wanting to speak aloud of your innocence of the deaths she’s accusing you of but that odd shine is there deep in her eyes and for once in your life you find yourself unable to do so.

You miss the old Jessica, the one who obeyed you without question, who smiled whenever you wanted her to, who didn’t complain about or tear up the gifts you left her. The Jessica who shared your bed, the Jessica you could touch. You remember the months when all of that long lean body was yours to explore and memorize and appreciate.

But you also remember her annoying moments of rebellion. That night when you first came across her and you asked her why she helped the junkie on the street. ‘I helped someone,’ you remember her saying, ‘I made a difference.’ The night when she first walked away from you and you called out her name, you remember she had turned to look at you with a doe’s wounded expression.

She calls herself a hero, this Jessica Jones. She may deny it but he’s seen self-righteousness in the world. He knows what self-assurance will do in turning someone into monsters (his parents are perfect examples, sitting so high in their complete confidence of science). She burns with the want to help the world and you don’t know how to explain that the world cannot be helped or saved. It can only be manipulated and led for your own desires because that’s the way people work. Everyone is out for their own, so you don’t understand why she calls your ability a curse. 

You don’t understand Jessica Jones. You know how to manipulate her, yes, you can make sure you save your own life even after she discovers she’s immune to your power. But she was right when she said you don’t understand what love is. 

It’s what kills you, in the end.


End file.
